I cough out a hoarse breath.

“Here you go,” she says sweetly, offering up her palms.

Right. I asked her to come over here. I did this.

My hands aren’t quite steady as I cup her curled fingers. The skin is still pink and angry-looking, a few dried strands of grass clinging to her palms, and they look sore enough that finishing that vegetable patch can’t have been fun. But what good is lecturing her about that now? I wasn’t here, so I don’t get a say.

“Do they still hurt? I could wrap ‘em again.”

Josie bites her lip and shakes her head. No, she’s right: I’d better not. Don’t trust myself enough to help undress her again.

I let go of Josie’s hands and wait, but she doesn’t move back.

There’s something so fucking good about seeing this beautiful girl at my feet. What is up with that? It’s not like I think I’m truly above her—Josie’s an angel, and I’m the older man who can’t keep away.

But seeing her kneeling down there… blinking up at me with pink cheeks and parted lips… that longing written all over her pretty face…

It’s heady.

Powerful.

It’s a surge of molten lava through my veins.

I lean back, heart pounding. “We should head inside too.”

Josie nods, but she doesn’t get up yet and neither do I. And I’m a bad man, because I want to drag this moment out as long as I humanly can. I want her near me, breathing fast, her eyes beseeching. Want her palms settling tentatively on my thighs.

I’m not sure who moves first, gripping clothes and surging forward. Not sure how our mouths crash together in a frenzy, but they do.

When she moans against my lips, something wrenches deep inside me. I could no more stop this than hold back the tide.

This is inevitable.

This is right.

“Up,” I growl against her mouth, finding her waist and lifting her up onto my lap. “Get up here.”

Her arms twining around my neck feel so good. How did we ever resist this? Who was I trying to kid?

Josie Martin is in my blood. She’s in every cell of my body. I need her, need her desperate touch and the taste of her on my tongue, need it more than water and air. Need it more than I need my self control.

Teeth dig into my bottom lip and I snarl, kissing her deeper. Her head bows back with the force of it, but Josie rallies. Gives as good as she gets.

“Mine.” I lick into her mouth, claiming her like a fucking caveman. “You’re mine.”

Not his. The words hang in the air around us, unspoken but loud as a bell, and Josie whimpers and nods; she crawls closer in my lap until we’re sealed together, our heartbeats thundering in time.

“Yours.”

We shouldn’t do this. We should stop right now.

I don’t care.

Her shorts button pops open as easily as I remember. I’ve never done this before, but I don’t need practice when it comes to Josie—I’m riding on pure instinct, and it’s as easy as breathing. I’ve touched her enough in my dreams, haven’t I?